


no one is getting paid enough for this

by shellsinsand



Category: Naruto
Genre: Crack, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellsinsand/pseuds/shellsinsand
Summary: the adventures of the konoha research community





	no one is getting paid enough for this

**Author's Note:**

> I really have... no excuse for this. But the idea of an extremely beleaguered community of researchers valiantly trying understand what the heck is going on with canon cracks me up, so. 
> 
> I am also, very clearly, not an academic. So playing it fast & loose with research practices here.

**i.**

The week before Shiori’s fellowship application is due to the Council begins with her sample starting to smoke at the same time Momoko kicks the door to the lab open and dramatically flops into a chair. There’s a small pop (followed by the crash of the rolling chair impacting the cabinets) and then the inevitable lick of flames at the side of the beaker. She groans and shoves it deeper into the fume hood to burn itself out.

“What if we pursued literally any other career ever?” she asks, tipping back in her chair. The ceiling still has a weird green stain from the intern tripping and getting culture everywhere two months ago.

“Mission finance.”

“Hospital admin.”

“Regular chunin.”

“Gardener.”

“Ooooh, sunshine. Sold.” She rolls her head over to look at Momoko, squints.

“Are you eating? In the lab?”

“Nara-senpai spent two hours destroying the draft of my paper,” she says, shoving a rice cracker in her mouth. “I’ve lost the will to live.”

“Momoko.” She grins, unrepentant.

“There’s smoke coming out of the fume hood.”

“Shit.” Goddamn embroidered seal work. Who really _needed_ fire proof clothing anyway?

**ii.**

“Would it hurt the validity of my conclusions if I only study coastal populations?”

“ _Validity of my conclusions_. Breaking out the serious shit. What’s your rationale?”

“Well…”

“You just want to live on the beach?”

“I’m not going to say yes, but also yes.”

“That argument’s going to need some work.”

“But you think I could do it?”

“I think you could talk your way into a three year posting in Iwa if you really wanted it.”

“Aww, you know I love political counterculture movements. But beaches first.”

“Time to break out the bullshit.”

**iii.**

Hama wakes up before the pillow hits his face, because he’s still a _shinobi_ thank you very much. His situational awareness is impeccable even if he spends all day in a lab. This is also why he rolls over just in time to avoid Ayano’s knee in his ribcage and drags the pillow with him. The more barriers between him and his little sister’s enthusiasm the better.

“Training tiiiiiiime,” she says, jabbing at his stomach. “You’re getting fat.”

“Piss off,” he grunts. Someone, somewhere, had decided that bioluminescent algae that were triggered by chakra would make an excellent light source, which meant he got to get up every three hours to feed stupid bacteria. Never did a person deserve to be stabbed more than the person who believed in researchers cross training; he was _supposed_ to be working on material properties for better chakra conduction. Metal didn't have to be fed in the middle of the damn night. 

“Nope.” She weasels the pillow out of his arms and gets another good whack at his legs before he can defend himself. “You promised I could practice my water release with you.”

“On me, more like,” he grumbles. “Don’t you have a team for this now?” Ayano smiles sweetly, and shakes her head.

“You need the practice more.”

“You brat,” he growls, and lunges as she takes off shrieking with laughter. He lets her get away, because he is a kind and benevolent brother, and mother would only yell if he tossed her out the window again.  

  **i** **v.**

“This experiment was performed on rats, despite them being gross, because weirdly enough no one wanted to sign up to have bacteria and possibly their skin burnt off by chakra. Do you think that’s a reflection on my character or theirs?”

“This is a pointless and a waste of effort,” Orochimaru says, not even looking up from his notes. Tsunade tosses a scrap of paper at him.

“Too bad,” she says, “I’m writing it.” It’s soothing, even if it’s a “waste of effort.” He very pointedly doesn’t grace that answer with a response, although it clearly pains him.  “However,” she continues, “as you can see in the data, hardly any skin cells were sacrificed to the cause and no mice have been traumatized. Initial results are positive, although pig skin would be more representative and there’s still a question of how the applied chakra would interact with a patient’s own chakra in the case of a serious laceration.” She watches Orochimaru, hair pulled back from his face and clearly resisting the urge to chew on his brush, and kicks his ankle. “Hey.”

“No,” he says, kicking her back.

“I didn’t even ask anything.”

“No, you may not stab me to test your theory.” Damn.

“I was going to ask if you think I could talk Jiraiya into it. And if you wanted to come.” That gets him to look up; she grins. “It’s been awhile since we’ve heard Sensei’s ethics speech, c’mon. It’s not like I can’t fix him right afterward.”

“Fine,” he says, like they’re his own personal burden. “But only because you’ll do something moronic otherwise.”


End file.
